Fear Not The Unknown

The poets tell how Pancho fell,
and Lefty’s living in cheap motels…

Fear of venturing into the unknown makes very little sense to me. When adrenaline raises one’s reaction time to a hair trigger; when one’s wits and strengths are elevated to their maximum potential; when one is at his or her sharpest, most alert, and most responsive…I see absolutely no reason to fear. At all. Quite the opposite in fact. It seems that one should feel safest when one is running at his or her best, yet somehow that is not the case. It’s no longer the unknown that people fear and avoid, but the simple and healthy act of dealing with it.

Indeed it is safety and repose that should be feared most, like the wretched sirens of the Odyssey. The lure of stagnant comfort and familiar confinement. It is here that the things one should really fear can enter our lives; apathy, spiritual physical and emotional malnourishment, and worse…

“Stand clear, put up your sword; let me but taste of blood. I shall speak true.”

I dreamed that my phone’s camera didn’t capture what was happening in real time, but rather in the future. And it captured people that I love who were dying in gruesome ways, such as my cousin’s 2 year old son, and there was nothing I could do about it but wait for it to happen, and watch when it did. It was very a very “scary movie” type dream. And I tried to catch the killer, but ended up being hunted. But what felt like the most fucked up part about it was it felt like I was in and out of it, asleep and awake. And there were point in my dream where I knew I was dreaming, and there were points in my dream were I was positive that I was awake and these things were really happening. I actually thought certain parts of my dream had actually happened when I woke up in the middle of the night, and had to convince myself none of it had happened.

I used to LOVE that show. Geez, I haven’t seen it in years. No, no I don’t think I feel helpless to it. I’ve always accepted time & it’s progression. There are times, of course, where I feel pressured by it, when deadlines have to be met, but not presently. I think generally, I’ve always felt more helpless to the past than to the future.

I found this on the world wide web: http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4058/4376540742_abc94941bb.jpg Thought you might appreciate it. I was drinking me a tall boy! I know I look drunk, but I swear I wasn’t.

“I thought you weren’t posting them because you had suddenly changed into some kind of…not beautiful woman…” Do the women in your life commonly succumb to such rapid transformations for you to assume so? Though, I suspect the next set of photos will be a bit different from these…hopefully even more to your taste.

RYN: Psh, I couldn’t find that more difficult to believe.

My love for PBR runs so deeply, I’d shout it from a mountain top. Though, it would be remiss of me to not admit my love for Newcastle runs deeper. However! A dollar a tall boy, and I’m sure my affection would wane. But, sadly, they don’t sell grown up beer at 7-11s here. :'(

If being elevated to sharpest sense meant paying price losing concept of yourself, your memory, everyone and everything around you? then what

Plus the calories. I’m not the kind of girl to count them, or fret over such things, but I do wary of too much beer sometimes. Especially stuff like Newcastle, which is like drinking a loaf of bread. Wine is good, not many calories. 😉 But wine makes my lips purple.